and it's you i'll come for
by Kiyoshi Kitana
Summary: "You're such a spacy stoner, bro, I swear," Al says, stretching. [amecan][see content notes inside]


**ingredients:** crossdressing, fishnets, stoned sex, blink-and-you'll-miss-it humiliation kink, intercrural sex, dirty talk, masturbation

* * *

… _and your parachute doesn't open … voodoo globe … have one of those little beds ..._

"Matty," Alfred whines suddenly, drawing out every vowel as he falls limply into Matthew's lap. "What are you thinking about? I'm bored."

"Hmm?" Matthew blinks rapidly, coming back to himself, and looks down at his brother.

Alfred's blue eyes are lidded behind Texas, pinkness creeping across the whites and darkening the edges of his pupils. If the compulsive licking of his lips wasn't a tip off to his current state, his reddened, half-focused gaze surely would be. "Said what're you thinking," Al repeats, shifting to rest more comfortably in Matt's lap, head pillowed on his thigh.

"Oh, um," Matthew stalls, looking away as he comes up short.

Alfred's earlier outburst broke his reverie; he can't remember what he was thinking about before his lapful of America. Not even a hint of that train of thought exists. After a brief pause he says this much, earning a lopsided grin from Al.

"You're such a spacy stoner, bro, I swear," Al says back, stretching, his t-shirt riding up to reveal his belly. He rubs the newly exposed skin idly when he settles down. "What about a board game? I'm pretty sure I've got somethin' you'll wanna play in there."

"In where?" Matt says distractedly, eyes drawn to the lazy circles Alfred's drawing on his own stomach. He's already got half a mind to skip the game in favor of the bed; Matt's sure that's where they'll end up anyway, after Alfred insists on taking a bet he'll assuredly lose.

Possibly on purpose.

Alfred waves his other hand around in a vague gesture and Matt follows it towards a closet door adjacent to the sofa they currently occupy. He's still considering the straight-to-bedroom approach when Alfred straightens up, leaving his lap empty, and says, pointing, "Go pick something so I can hurry up and kick your butt in it."

That makes Matthew snort in amusement, pulling his attention away from the half-hardness of his cock and the sudden loss of pleasant body heat.

"You really want to lose that badly, eh?" he teases, flashing a grin at the scrunched up face Alfred makes in response before starting the wobbly process of peeling himself off of the couch. "Fine by me."

A few drifting moments later, Matt opens up the door, flicking on the light of Al's storage closet. He takes an immediate step back, surprised; daunted.

The closet is an overflowing mess of assorted items on shelves going several feet back, complemented by even more things littered over the narrow walking space. "You didn't mention it'd be a scavenger hunt," he says incredulously, beginning to pick his way into the closet, looking around for anything that appears approximately like a board game.

Seconds after catching himself on a shelf to avoid tripping over a set of raggedy wooden dolls, Matt brings down a plastic bag on top of his head. Groaning, Matthew quickly concludes that he's way, _way_ too high for this.

Skipping to the bedroom is definitely the plan from here on out.

Matthew scans the floor in an attempt to plan an escape route, gaze lingering over the spilled contents of the bag he brought down. A brightly-coloured plastic package the size of a paperback novel catches his eye; he crouches down to pull it closer to his face. Even with his glasses on, the words and images swim a bit in front of him. He blinks them into focus.

** INCLUDES:** One (1) pair of _Leg Candy_ lace thigh-highs in _"Violent Violet."_

Oh.

Alfred's voice rings out from the other room abruptly, laced with impatience. "Find anything? What's taking you so long, jeez?"

"Hold on, I'm coming out right now," Matthew shoots back, turning the package over in his hands. A mischievous smile tugs at his lips as he stands and tucks it under his arm, slowly maneuvering again through the clutter on the floor.

Gravity seems extra effective when Matthew plops back down in his spot on the sofa. His breath leaves him in a whoosh. "I didn't find any games," he says apologetically, in answer to the expectant look on Alfred's face.

"Found these, though," he continues, taking on a playful tone as he produces the package of purple thigh-highs for inspection, waving them in Alfred's line of sight.

"Oh fuck, gimme that!"

Matt is caught off guard by how quickly Alfred lunges at him, scandalized, trying to grab the lingerie out of his hand. He barely manages to move it out of the way, scooting up on the arm of the couch so the blonde can't scramble onto his lap and pin him down.

If Al weren't just as stoned as he is, Matt's sure Alfred would've wrested the package away from him. Instead, thwarted, Alfred stares at him with twisted lips, flushing from his neck to the tips of his ears in embarrassment.

"It was just an experiment, okay?" he says sheepishly, scratching the tip of his nose. "Forgot I even bought them."

Matt pretends to examine the thigh-highs, tugging on his curl with his other hand.

"They're cute," he compliments, watching the Al's flush deepen from over the package's edge. Matthew hasn't seen his brother this red in a while.

He thinks back; no, not since the night they discovered together how much Alfred _really_ likes being held down. Desire stirring in his groin, Matt licks dry lips and holds the package out to Al. "You can have them back - _if_ you agree to go try them on first."

"Fine," Alfred says immediately, indignation all over his face as he reaches out to snatch the thigh-highs before Matt can pull them back.

Anyone else would be fooled by Al's act. Matthew, on the other hand, just smiles as Alfred rolls off of the couch, watches him try to discreetly adjust the boner in his jeans and storm away huffily at the same time.

While waiting for Alfred to return, Matthew slides back into his original position. He hears Alfred's footsteps going upstairs and lets his head loll against the back of the sofa, staring at the ceiling fuzzily. Drifting.

There is a lengthy pause, then the telltale footsteps of Alfred descending the stairs again. Matthew lifts his head up when Alfred comes to stand in front of him and coughs lightly into his fist, looking thoroughly mortified.

Matt's dick throbs with a sudden insistence as he looks his brother over: Al's swapped out his t-shirt for a clingier white one that skims his hips, only just covering the tip of his bare erect cock; replaced his pants with the deep purple fishnets, exactly as requested. The tan of Alfred's skin makes the colour stand out as the stockings curve neatly up the musculature of his calves. They come to rest at the tops of his thighs, accented by thick and pretty scalloped lace.

"Don't just stare," Alfred mumbles, fingering the hem of his shirt. He wets his ruddy lips nervously.

Matthew leans forward in response, taking hold of Al's shirt to pull him closer. "Come over here then."

That's all the prompting Alfred needs to climb onto Matt's lap for a kiss, settling down right over the bulge of his cock. The press of their lips quickly evolves into the wet suck and slide of tongues as Al settles his arms on Matthew's shoulders, hands on the couch, Matt's calloused palms smoothing over his thighs.

It's a novel sensation, but good, Matt finds; the soft, sheer lace gliding against the roughness of his fingertips and warmed by the heat of Al's skin.

Matt kisses his way down Al's neck when they part for breath, sucking up little red marks and soothing them over with a swipe of his tongue. Al tilts his head back, a groan bubbling up in throat, and Matt gropes his thighs, pulling them flush together.

"So you like them too," Alfred says breathlessly, cock throbbing and trapped up against Matthew's belly. He wiggles on Matt's lap, the pleasure of the friction pooling in his groin.

Matt's lips are damp, soft, as they settle in the crook of Al's neck. "They're good on you," he says, squeezing his brother's thighs again to feel the soft lace. "Wanna fuck you in them, Alfie, would you let me do that? Get your legs up in the air so you can see how you look for yourself?"

"Fuck, Matty, yeah," Al breathes, pushing Matt back against the couch to kiss him again. And again, and again, his next words slipping out whenever their lips part. "We could do that, yeah, could even do my thighs, could see if these stockings feel as good around your dick as they do on me."

"Christ," Matthew groans at the idea, his cock pressing insistently against his fly, against Al. Using the grip he already has on Al's legs Matt rolls over abruptly, reversing their positions.

Dizzied, Alfred's breath leaves him in a whoosh as he hits the back of the couch, pinned under his brother's weight. Palms pressed to Matthew's shoulders and legs up around his waist, Al laughs into the Canadian's kiss, giving him a little nudge at the same time.

"Pants," Alfred says, licking his lips, when Matt moves back, but not off of him completely.

"Mmm, right," Matthew agrees and stands fully. He sucks in a breath through his teeth as he shimmies out of his jeans; he's so hard that the slide of denim over his cock almost hurts.

And then there's Al, arranging himself on the couch so that his lace-clad legs are in the air, shirt riding up as his body curves into a neat 'V'. One hand curled around his cock and the other splayed across his bare belly, Alfred parts his thighs just enough for Matt to step forward and push his cock into the space. His thighs are tight and warm, damp with a little sweat and smooth; Matt moans and steadies himself with hands on Al's thighs.

Al squeezes his legs together and Matthew groans again, rocking his hips through a jolt of arousal.

"Good?" he says, squeezing again, voice thick with desire. The way Matt slides against the sensitive skin of his inner thighs has heat gathering at the base of his cock, building like an unscratched itch.

Matthew jerks when Al flexes his thighs again, tightening around him, and he can't help thrusting harder.

"Yeah," he exhales, lashes fluttering as his gaze focuses on Alfred. Smoothing his palms over every part of Al he can reach, he takes in the flush of Al's skin; the way he grips and tugs at his cock; how he worries already reddened lips. "Really good."

Alfred moans in response, hiking his shirt up further to rub one of his nipples until it's hard and sensitive under his fingertips. Sweat and precome make his thighs slipperier, heightening the sensation of Matt's cock rubbing firm and hot against him, and every squeeze of his legs makes desire coil tighter in his core, hot and insistent.

"Almost there," Al says, panting, his rhythm stuttering as pressure builds at the base of his spine, flutters in his belly and cock and fingers and toes. He pinches and tugs at his nipple, jerking at his own touch.

"Go ahead, come," Matt urges, gripping Al's thighs tighter, fingers leaving indentations in tanned flesh. He slows his hips as much as he can bear, feeling the familiar tug in his balls as he tries to hold out. Licking his lips, he pitches his voice lower. "Show it to me."

"_Fuck._"

It's all the encouragement Al needs to let go, pulses of pleasure spreading through his limbs, pink mouth open on a low moan. His muscles quiver around Matt's cock, flexing involuntarily as he comes and then the Canadian isn't far behind, coating his inner thighs sticky and white.

Matthew sinks to the floor in the aftershocks of his orgasm, bringing Al's legs down with him. Wedged between his brother's legs, he drags his tongue over the mess he's left over Al's purple lace.

"That kinda tickles," Alfred says, an unexpected giggle rising in his throat. Matt licks him again and he shivers, fixing his gaze on Matt. Even though he's just spent himself all over his belly, his still-hard cock twitches with interest as Matt wiggles his tongue against the holes of his fishnets. He reaches down to tug on the blonde's curl affectionately. "What're you doing?"

Matt casts his eyes up. "Still wanna fuck you in these," he says, smile widening at Alfred's expression. As if reminded of something completely forgotten.

"Oh," Alfred breathes out, opening his legs wider as Matthew moves higher between them. Desire is back to a simmer beneath his skin. "We could do that."


End file.
